Prodigy
by Mongoose2
Summary: This fic explores how Nagi got his codename, Prodigy, and why he is the way he is.
1. prologue

Prodigy  
  
Prologue  
  
By Mongoose  
  
  
  
Warnings: Violence, abuse, lots and lots of bad language and Nagi angst, OCC, more warnings to be announced.  
  
Category: Side story, takes place when Nagi is 8 years old.  
  
Spoilers: So far, none, might be later, though.  
  
Declaimer: I don't own WK or Magnolia.  
  
  
  
Note: I don't know where I'm going with this. I was watching a movie called Magnolia, but it was so long and random, however interesting, that I just couldn't take it anymore and got up and started typing this. However, this was inspired by the movie, so I credit it with that. If this fic turns out strange blame it on the movie, the time of night and my headache (damn those allergies!)  
  
Anyway, I intend this to be a thoughtful fic about Nagi and how he got his codename. So, on with the fic.  
  
I was a prodigy. Always had been. And I hated it.  
  
  
  
I was on another game show. Another stupid, fucking game show. One of those ones they put real smart kids on. Like Jeopardy for kids. They take us backstage and pamper us and put makeup on us and tell us to do a good job, or else. Sure, they didn't say "or else" but you know they mean it. It's in their eyes. And when they said, "I know your gonna win for us, aren't ya?", using their baby talk, like we wouldn't understand them otherwise, they don't really want you to answer the question. It's rhetorical. The smile that shows too much teeth and the never reaches their eyes, only filled with threats. Those threats said, "don't you even think about saying 'no'," and most of all they say, "Don't fail us, or you're a failure, and we won't pretend to love you anymore. We won't love failures, won't even pretend to." That's what the threats in their eyes said. And I understood.  
  
I was a prodigy, the very best of all, they said as they patting me on the head in that condescending way that I hated.  
  
And I was the best. No one doubted that.  
  
The other kids didn't like that. Didn't like me. They envied me. But I didn't want that. I didn't want their envy. Or their awe, and their jealousy. I didn't want their spite, their insults whispered behind their chubby little hands like I couldn't hear them.  
  
But they depended on me, they needed me. They needed me to win for them. And so they respected me, in a hatful sort of way, and I ignored them like I was above them, better than them, because I was.  
  
But tonight was different. Tonight had to be. Because I just couldn't live if it all turned out just like the last three years of my life.  
  
  
  
//flashback//  
  
"Ya' fuckin' pro'gy! Ya' fucker! Fu'in' eight year ol' gen'us! Ya think yer' smar'er than ta ress a' us?! Huh?! Ya' ain't my goddamn son! Ya' ain't human! Yer' juss a prodigy! Sall' yer are!"  
  
Nagi Naoe curled up tighter into the corner he'd taken shelter in from the onslaught of slurred words from his drunken father.  
  
A strong hand roughly reached down and grabbed him by his hair, the other dangling him form his collar.  
  
He shook him, hard.  
  
"Ya' know wha? You KNOW WHAT?!" the intoxicated man roared, spitting foul saliva into Nagi's face. His breath worked its way into Nagi's wrinkled nose and he smelled the cheep beer his father had indulged himself in with the money won from Nagi's last show. 'He said for college! He promised he wouldn't spend it this time! He'd said to win the money, and that he'd put it away for college!' Nagi thought in anguished betrayal.  
  
He shook Nagi again, startling the boy so badly from his thoughts of another future lost that he almost lost his nerve and screamed. Almost.  
  
"Do ya' know what!!?"  
  
There was a silence in which Nagi deemed he was suppose to answer, but the boy just shook his head and said nothing.  
  
"I'll tell ya' wah! Only reasin' I 'idn't throw ya' out the day yer was born was 'cauze a' her! Well, guz wah!? Shez dead now, boy! Now only thin' keepin' ya here, in this house, eatin' this moverfuckin' food, wastin' my money, is me! Me! Ya hear?!"  
  
He gave the boy a final shake for emphasis, then still holding him, he leaded close and whispered, his hot, foul breath filling Nagi's senses, and his raspy voice echoing in Nagi's head, "Ya' win money, that's the only reason yer' still here, in my house, eatin' my food! 'cause yer' smart, ya bastard! Sall' yer' worth, is yer brains, ya little shit! Ya' won't fail me, will ya' not me, the one who gives ya a home and food ya shit! Ya' won't! I'll kick yer out! Won't never see ya' again, won't have to feed ya or nothin' Ya' FAILURE!! Ya moverfuckin' failure!"  
  
Nagi let out a small whimper, the first sound he'd made since his father came home from the bar to find him staring with a blank expression out of the window where rain pounded outside.  
  
The noise seemed to startle the unshaven drunk and he looked down at his son as if for the time that night. Really looked. And he saw a scared, lost, miserable child.  
  
A single tear trickled down Nagi's cheek, barely visible in the dim yellow lamp light. Perhaps it was that that startled Nagi's father out of his drunken rage. For Nagi never cried. Never. He frowned, confused, obviously having trouble processing this information in his clouded mind.  
  
A smile cracked his grizzled face and he set the shaken boy down. "It's solight, lil' man. I dun' know whas wrong, but it's soright." His eyes crinkled at the sides the way they used to do when his mother was still alive, making his whole face a mass of smile lines.  
  
The kindness, if not confusion, in the man's voice almost made Nagi smile. Almost. But Nagi never smiled, not anymore. Not even when his father talked that way, reminding Nagi of the good times. The old, old, never come again times. And even now, he wasn't always like this. On good days he could even seem…loving. But it was all a lie, to Nagi. A lie he cherished and loved and clung to for sanity. And today was the worst day yet.  
  
He father glanced at his watch, his brow furrowing in concentration as he attempted to read the time from its ticking hands.  
  
"Ain't there summing ya' got to do?....ah, I remember, it's that show a' your. Hurry now, or you'll be late! Smile fo' me out there, Na…Nag…Na…son," he stuttered, trying to remember his son's name, but gave up. His mind was so hopeless clouded with drink. He finished with a staggeringly hard pat on the back and a, "Win daddy a fortune out there, Prodigy!"  
  
//End Flashback//  
  
  
  
I showed no outward signs of emotion as I replayed the drama of a few hours ago in my mind. I pride myself on that, because I couldn't let them see. I would never ever let them see.  
  
'He couldn't even remember my name this time….That's bad, worst I've ever seen him, I think. Yeah. I always win you a fortune, dad, and you always go and spend it on your goddamn beer. Damn, I hate that awful stuff. The creator of alcohol should die. Probably already did, centuries ago. The creator of this damn show should die. I hate him, hate everyone here, I hate them all and I hate you, dad!… He will die. Tonight. Yeah, your Prodigy always wins you a fortune, doesn't he, daddy? And now he's going to fucking kill the man who provides that fortune. I'm going to kill him.'  
  
Then the lady, some faceless makeup technician, told me she was done and the other kids and my "handler" as I secretly thought of her, told us it was time, and asked us if we were gonna do our best, another rhetorical question. I didn't bother to answer her. I had more important things to do than to deign her with a response, like murdering the producer of 'Kid Geniuses'.  
  
And with that I walked out onto the brightly lit stage for the last time….  
  
  
  
All done with part one. There will be a sequel. I plan this to be a short little series.  
  
Tell me what you think and if you see any mistakes and I'll fix 'em. demonangel600@comcast.net 


	2. Destroy

Prodigy  
  
Chapter 1- Destroy  
  
By Mongoose  
  
  
  
Warnings: Violence, abuse, lots and lots of bad language and Nagi angst, OCC, sexual harassment (?), MAJOR ICK FACTOR! This part is not for people with a weak stomach or faint heart, okay? more warnings to be announced.  
  
Category: Side story, takes place when Nagi is 8 years old.  
  
Spoilers: So far, none, might be later, though.  
  
Declaimer: I don't own WK or Magnolia.  
  
  
  
Note: Nagikins gets reeealy destructive in this part…. sweatdrop Good thing his father was safe at home, or he might have suffered Nagi's wrath too ^_^, not that he doesn't deserve it, mind you. *Boom* *Crash* *bang* Go Nagi! Go! Destroy!...eheh, I'm having too much fun writing thing, ya know? Can't you just imagine Nagi chasing after the producer and/or game show host yelling "Shine!!! Game how host!!!"  
  
Heehee, okay, I'll shut up now. On with the fic! ^_^  
  
  
  
I walked to my seat beside the other kids, lifting my hand to shield my eyes from the intensity of the stage lights. I hated stage lights. I hated everything!  
  
One of the older kids, a dull one named Kobushi (1), I think, smirked at me in that menacing way that said "Answer them all right of I'll pound you!"  
  
And he would, to. He had before, for lesser things. I had always been short, slender and fine-boned. He was Massive. An entire two feet taller than me, and twice as wide, he weighted at least 150 pounds.  
  
Me and my tiny, underfeed 85 pounds didn't stand a chance against him. The doctor said I had malnutrition too. Whatever. It didn't matter. Not really. I'd live.  
  
Muzen(2), a tall, wiry girl, glared at me. She picked on me too, but not in the same way that Kobushi did. She was older too, and she seemed a little too aware of it. She would sit herself right next to me, pressing close, too close. She'd wrap her arm around my neck and whisper in my ear, the smell of her perfume and of the gum she'd been chewing making me cough, and she'd say in what was suppose to be a seductive voice, "you gonna win, aren't you, Nagi," she'd trace her finger down my cheek and continued down my chest, and lower and lower until I gave in and shivered. Then she'd lean even closer and say, "You know what'll have to happen if you don't, right Nagiwagi? Your papa hasn't been coming to work, you know, we need workers, at my daddy's company, and he could hire someone new, but because your just so cute and so smart, I've convinced him not to fire your papa. But you've got to keep winning for us Nagi, or I don't know what I'll do. I don't know if I can keep begging him to keep you papa, if you fail. Don't fail us, Nagi, don't be a failure, I know you won't." And with that final threat she'd lean over me and kiss me, sometimes on the cheek, of the forehead, or if she was feeling extra cruel, on the lips. And I'd hold perfectly still and let her do it. I had to, or she'd have my father fired, and then we would have nothing! Oh, but how I hated it. I hated her! I hated the feel of her lips and the smears of lipstick they left on my face. She was too young to be wearing lipstick! And I was too young to have it all over my face. It felt awful, disgusting, and I felt invaded and sick.  
  
Kobushi would always point out to everyone the smears of red on my face, making my blush and hide my face. Humiliating me.  
  
One day I came home and my father saw the red smears. He laughed. He laughed, like it was funny! And he said, "Thas' my boy, a lil' lady's man!" He said it and smiled and beamed like it was something to be proud of! Proud that a girl had, under threat of fire my father and Kobushi cracking his knuckles in the background, had kissed me and threatened me!  
  
And that wasn't all. Kobushi was liked Muzen. A lot. And he was the sort of brat to get whatever he wanted. And he hated to see her giving me any attention, even if it was just to threaten me. Every time she did that Kobushi would punch me after the show without word or explanation.  
  
But today would be different. It already was. I had walked to the studio in the rain, so I was late and it took extra long to get me looking cute enough for TV after all that rain.  
  
I was still shivering in my seat on next to Muzen when the announcer came out on stage and introduced everyone, including the game show host and the producer, who was in the audience tonight, come to check up on his show. Perfect.  
  
It was one of those kid-vs.-the adults contests. No sweat.  
  
Everything seemed to go by in a blur. Question. Answer. Question. Answer.  
  
We were winning, thanks to me.  
  
It was about ten minutes before the commercial brake and it was time for a one-on-one round. One kid vs. one adult. I didn't even pay attention to who the adults choose, the kids would choose me, I knew. And that was the moment I'd been patiently waiting for.  
  
Kobushi and Muzen turned to look at me, their eyes expectant.  
  
I stood up carefully, and stepped gracefully to center stage, just as I was suppose to do.  
  
Then I spun on my heal to face the audience.  
  
"no," I said to quietly that it could be barely heard.  
  
The host turned to stare at me with incredulity in his eyes. I could see the gears turning. 'Little Nagi never acted up, little Nagi always did as he was told and would never disobey directions. What was little Nagi doing?!'  
  
"'no' what do you mean, 'no', Nagi?," Asked the flustered host.  
  
"I mean….NO! I mean I won't come up and answer these stupid questions for you, or them, or anyone!" I was shaking, but my voice was thankfully steady.  
  
"Now Naoe Nagi, I don't know what's gotten into you, but you are going to come up here and you are going to answer every one of these questions. And you'll do it right now!"  
  
When I only glared rebelliously back, daring him silently to come and make me, he frowned.  
  
He wasn't a bad man, I reflected. Not really. But if he made one move to try and make me come up there I would kill him.  
  
He started to step towards me and I stepped back. Seeing me retreat he seemed to gain confidence and took a larger, bolder step closer. He continued until he had me backed up against the wall.  
  
"Now, Nagi, please, just come back to the show," he half-pleased, half- ordered. For this was live TV and I'm sure he thought this looked awfully bad. Well, fuck him.  
  
"Don't touch me! Don't you dare touch me!"  
  
He reached forward, intending to grab my upper arm, but I lashed out, pushing his chest feebly with my hand.  
  
Then he grabbed my arm and squeezed tight, and I saw red. How dare he!  
  
I struck him across the chest again with all the force in my unhampered arm…and he flew across the stage and crashed into the opposite wall, breaking his neck instantly.  
  
But I was so enthralled in my newfound power that I didn't even hear the sickly crack of bone and thump and he slid to the floor, choking on his own blood. One of the adult contestants rushed to his side, and when he realized that he was dead, he retched all over the stage.  
  
"Security!" screamed one of the more rational adult contestants.  
  
The third, some guy who thought he was being heroic, rushed at me, apparently with the intention of restraining me. I simply stretched my arm out, with my palm facing his general direction. I wave of power tore across the stage leaving a wreckage of colored tiles in its wake. When it hit the contestant, he didn't stand a chance, it send him flying back words and he crashed somewhere backstage, likely with the same fate as the host.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing, Nagi?" screamed Kobushi.  
  
I turned towards him, my eyes wide and gleaming with hate and power, so much power! Never before had I felt it course threw my vein as it did now. I smiled, and walked over to him. I grabbed him by the folds of fat that were his neck and lifted him clean out of his seat with a power that did not come from my small muscles. And with my other hand I blasted him with jolt after jolt of power, and watched him convulse with each blow until he just flopped limply in my grasp. Intending to strike him one more time, I heard I shout "Put the boy down and your hands in the air!" Security was here. No problem.  
  
"Very well," I said coldly and let Kobushi drop brokenly back into his seat with a thud. Several of his joints were twisted at very wrong angles and he slumped and fell from his chair to the wreckage of the tiled floor, dead.  
  
I turned, raising my hands above my head, titling them just so, and let the power burst from my finger tips to strike the support beams on the roof above their head foolish heads. Fools.  
  
A portion of the roof collapses onto the cluster of fat security guards, killing them instantly.  
  
I turned, a smirk curving my lips to contemplate the audience. All the panicked onlookers froze under my gaze and I raised my hand. One woman screamed, clutching her baby, and I let my power fly, crashing in the direction of the fleeing observers. It cracked and collapsed part of the bleachers and several fell, screaming, the ten feet of the tallest bleacher step. The thud was satisfying. I was enjoying this, and that fact didn't even bother me. After a few more minutes of relishing the screams and crashed and thuds of bodies as a decimated parts of the stage and the bleachers I turned to my original target, clutching my fat hand to his heart, eyes wide as saucers and fear radiating form them. I smiled at him and shook my head sadly and, as my smirk returned, slowly, deliberately, walked toward him as the building crashed down around me. He was too scared to move, so all he could do was watch as death wearing the face of a small boy walked calmly toward him. I reached out and grabbed his face, digging my fingers into his temples, and I concentrated, gathering my power with armature practice at the tips of each finger. Then sent it outward and the pressure came at the man from all sides, crushing his scull with a squelch. Blood and thicker things covered my hand and sprayed my face.  
  
It startled me, the hot blood, and I blinked, coming partially back to myself. I glanced over the dead mans shoulder, the audience had fled. I looked over my own shoulder, the contestants, those that were still alive that is, had run, the security guards were out of sight underneath a chunk of roof. The building was shaking. The roof was coming down. The police would be coming. I had murdered at least thirty people. That is what the logical part of my brain was telling me.  
  
So I carefully stepped over dead bodies and the moaning injured and quietly open the emergency exit door and slipped out before I could be buried alive with all those others in the studio building.  
  
I had to run, so I ran. I ran and ran and ran. And when I could run no further I turned down an alleyway and slumped against a doorway. All my strength had left me a while ago, the power deserted me. And I fell asleep almost instantly, exhausted.  
  
  
  
Nagi's father watched the scene of destruction unfold on the TV screen. At some point someone cut it off the show off of the air and only static was left. He continued to stare at the screen, uncomprehending and drunk.  
  
That was the last time Nagi's father ever saw his son, other than on the most wanted and missing persons lists of Kyoto.  
  
He muttered darkly to himself, then the alcohol final took it's inevitable effect and he slumped sideways on the couch, fast asleep.  
  
He murmured, almost to softly in his sleep, "Nagi, my Prodigy, I love ya' Nagi, ya know that, right?"  
  
But he received no answer.  
  
  
  
Kobushi means "fist" in Japanese. I thought it was fitting.  
  
Muzen means "cruel" in Japanese.  
  
What did ya think? I typed this really fast; it's just a rough draft really, so tell me what you think. I will correct spelling errors and stuff later. I apologize for the ick factor, everyone. -_-;; demonangel600@comcast.net 


End file.
